


Bloodlines

by queenofcrossroads



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe, Djinnverse (Supernatural), Kinda, M/M, Mentions of Bipolar Disease, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofcrossroads/pseuds/queenofcrossroads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is a djinn who chooses Ian as his victim (or the Shameless/Supernatural crossover that doesn’t have any Supernatural characters but is canon compliant, at least until the spinoff is released).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after I watched Bloodlines (Supernatural S09E20), I decided I needed a crossover asap. Like, they laid it all for us to go nuts. And when no one offered to write it for me, I had to take matters in my own hands. So this is more of a self-indulgence rather than anything else, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> And if you do, I might think of writing a sequel that actually involves Supernatural characters.

Mickey Milkovich was a djinn. Not only that, but he also was the second in command of the toughest motherfucking djinn in Chicago, the leader of their kin, his father. Being the smartest and most resourceful amongst his siblings had earned his place, and would surely entitle him to be the heir to their monster empire. Mickey did not mind it much, but it was not like it was something he actually wanted to do. He was a simple creature. He wanted to be free, free from their bureaucracy. He wanted to hunt, feel the rush, instead of simply being handed his food so he would have more time to take care of the family business. Busting the skulls of creatures who could actually put up a fight against him was always fun, but most of the time, everything was just too complicated.

On a particularly slow night, Mickey had decided to go hunting for a victim. It was not all that hard: he simply found some fucker no one would miss, approached them and made them an offer they could not refuse. No, it was not sex (well, on occasion it was, but always with women). _What would you say if I told you I can grant your every wish?_ His victims were always skeptical at first, of course. But then he would grab their wrists and give them a little taste of what they could have. Everyone would just follow him blindly back to his place, offering themselves to dispose as Mickey willed. Mickey had always been a charming little fucker, and luring his food into his den (because of course, a djinn had a den) gave him a thrill not even the feeding itself could top.

Today, though, was a little different. Today he had his eye on somebody, and he did not care where the fucker had someone waiting for him at home. He was at The Alibi Room (one of his favorite places for a hunt -obviously he could not pick only one, it might become suspicious) and spotted himself a gorgeous ginger.

“Hey.” he said, pulling a chair next to the boy. He must have been in his early twenties, handsome and muscular, the type of guy Mickey would have gone for if he had ever acted on his true nature. The boy looked up to see him with a smirk on his face.   
“Mind if I sit?”  
“Go ahead.” said the ginger as he focused his attention on Mickey. He could see tribals covered his arms completely and was going to comment on it, when the djinn began to talk again.  
“I'm gonna cut to the chase here, cause I don't like to waste my time.” the comment elicited a brow raise from the guy, “ _what would you say if I told you I can grant your every wish?_ ”  
The ginger was now smirking at him and before he could wonder what the fuck that meant, the boy continued, blinking an eye, “Sounds about right.” _No_ , Mickey wanted to say to him, _that's not what I meant_. But it had worked. It had got him the ginger following him to his den.   
“Ian,” the boy said as they were walking, “Ian Gallagher.”  
“Don't care” Mickey replied, smiling to himself nonetheless.

When they arrived, Ian was somewhat thrown off by the sight: a deserted place, but for sets of handcuffs hanging from the ceiling.   
“Kinky, huh?” he said raising an eyebrow, “It's cool, man, I-” but he was cut short when the djinn touched his face with a blue glow that rendered him unconscious. The last thing Ian saw were those fierce blue eyes that had caught his attention the second he saw the brunet.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ian was at West Point. Dozens of other young men and women at his sides, front and back. It took him a second to understand what was going on. The training was just beginning, and his superior was barking out some orders. Easy, he thought to himself. Effortlessly, he began to handle the gun in his hands, along with all the other cadets. He had to bite his lower lip to refrain from smiling, thinking about how everything came so natural to him. How he felt like he belonged there, and like he was finally excelling at something. The day went by in a midst of similar trainings, which he completed with total success and during which he actually received the acknowledgement of his superiors, who seemed very pleased to have him there. Ian did not have any time to think about what was happening until he found himself in his bed after the lights had been turned off._   
_He was staring at the ceiling, when it finally dawned on him. It did not make sense. Nothing made sense. The last thing he could remember was following a handsome man to a very peculiar place. But then, he remembered something else; “What would you say if I told you I can grant your every wish?” And it all clicked. Well, not all, since he still did not understand how the fuck what was happening was happening, but at least now he saw things clearly. The stranger had granted him his every wish. And boy, was it glorious._

Mickey could see everything Ian saw, and Ian himself. He was now in army clothes, which made the djinn find the boy all the more desirable. He could not help taking in all the details, everything Ian did, how secure and comfortable he seemed doing what he loved. He started admiring his determination, something he had always lacked himself. His beautiful smile when he thought no one was watching, his dexterity in all the fields he was tested in, the countless freckles in his face.

_The next day at lunch, Ian found a familiar face among the cadets._

_Fuck_ , Mickey thought. He did not know whether he had projected himself unconsciously in Ian’s fantasy or if Ian had actually wanted him in it, but either way, he felt conflicted. There he was, eating his supper while he eyed the human boy from the other side of the table they were sitting at. Except, this version of him had no tattoos. This version of him was human.

_Fantasy Mickey wasted no time in acquainting himself with the ginger. He had just blinked an eye at Ian and signalled to follow him with a slight movement of his head. Within minutes, they were kissing fiercely and undressing each other in an abandoned wing of the quarters._

Mickey had to distance himself from the sight because he could not take it. He was being his latest victim’s wet dream, yet he could not bring himself to care about that. He was flustered, astonished, and a little turned on. He had caught glimpses of the beautiful ginger’s body, muscular yet lean, and all he could think of was actually being there, being the one making him whimper and moan, instead of his stupid fantasy version. It might have occurred to Mickey that he was supposed to be feeding from the human instead of stalking him, but he could not stop. Not now.

_There was not another thing Ian could have asked for in life. Everything was perfect and he enjoyed every second of it. Over the few days he spent in his Wonderland, things had become better and better. He was doing perfectly in his training, had made friends, received loving letters from his family telling him how much they missed him, and developed an amazing relationship with the brunet. He was writing back to Lip, describing how happy he was with the boy, when he realized he still did not know his name. Every time he had asked the other boy, something had interrupted them. Ian started to reflect on his situation, recalled the real encounter, the one that had lead him to this wonderful life, and realized he had never caught the guy’s name in the first place. It did not matter, he though to himself, everything here was perfect and things would have a way to turn out flawlessly._

Mickey was contemplating Ian’s sleepy figure when he heard a whimper. Only, it had not come from the fantasy; it had come from the real Ian; who was obviously suffering. It was then that he realized how decayed the boy looked. How fragile, how ill. Mickey knew that if he kept him in his fantasy, he would be in coma in just a matter of hours. He felt himself get sick over that notion.   
_He was just another prey_ , he tried to say to himself. _Food, nothing more_. He felt his hands reach his face, palms on is eyes, pressing them, preventing the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He had no choice. He had to finish him off. Otherwise, Ian could expose him. He could go to the police, tell them Mickey had kidnapped him; he even knew where his den was. Sure, those places could never be traced to the Milkovich family, his father had made sure of that much; but a fair amount of people had seen Mickey at the bar and could easily recognize him. Hell, Ian could even try to convince the authorities that Mickey was a supernatural creature and leave him and all his kind exposed forever.   
In the end, he could not bring himself to do the right thing. He knew it would have consequences, serious ones, especially if his father ever found out. But he knew he could never live with himself if he took Ian’s life. With care, he freed the boy from the cuffs, threw his whole body on his shoulder and headed out. It was 3.30 in the morning and he knew there would not be anyone in the street, at least anyone who was not guilty of something and would not butt into affairs which did not concern them. Mickey found a completely deserted corner and before putting the boy down, he planted a sweet kiss on his lips. On his walk home, he found a pay phone and called for an ambulance.


	3. Chapter 3

Ian woke up the next day in a hospital room with his brother next to him.   
“Ian, you ok?” asked Lip, now smiling and approaching his bed.  
“I’ve been better.” replied the redhead, weak and disoriented, “What happened?”  
“They found you lying on the sidewalk, apparently someone called for an ambulance.” His brother interjected.  
“What about Westpoint?”  
Lip frowned in confusion.   
“What about it?” he asked.  
“I was there, I was doing great.”   
“Ian, you haven’t even mentioned Westpoint since you got rejected at eighteen. Besides, you were missing for two nights. You could have hardly got that far.”  
Then it hit him. His fantasy was not real. He was not sure whether his disease was getting really severe and playing tricks on his mind or the guy he had met had been the one to cause it. He decided that as soon as he was out of the hospital, he would go and find out.

That very night, Ian went to The Alibi. When Kev saw him, he gave him a little smile and said, “Hey, man, I’m glad you’re better. What the hell even happened to you?”  
“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m here.” Kev looked at him a little puzzled, “I hope this doesn’t sound crazy, but did you see me leaving with a black haired guy the other night? Shorter than me, handsome?”  
Kev gave out a little laugh, “You don’t have to boast man, I remember.”   
“Oh, thank god.” Ian sighed, “Thanks, Kev, see you around!” he finished before taking his coat and exiting the bar, leaving the bartender utterly confused.

Mickey had been wandering for some time before he found himself going in the direction of The Alibi. He could not stay in his den anyway, since he figured by now it would be crawling with cops. He wanted to see Ian again, and before he had any time to consider how dumb he was being, he was on the sidewalk opposite to the bar. _Ian couldn’t be there_ , he thought, _there’s no chance in hell_. And still, he stayed there, semi-hidden behind a car, staring at the doors of the bar and paying special attention every time someone came out.

Mickey was about to light a cigarette when he saw Ian exit hurriedly and decided to tail him. Even in his weak state, the ginger looked beautiful and strong, full of the determination Mickey liked so much. Keeping a safe distance between them, he began to follow. Only after some minutes, they arrived at a much familiar place, his den.   
_Here he is_ , the djinn thought, _he’s come to kill me_. Ian picked the lock and let himself in. Mickey followed close behind him, making no noise.

“Come out!” Ian shouted, “Please, come out.” The desperation in his voice made the brunet shiver. He thought that if he had caused this much misery to the boy, it was at least fair that he let him attack Mickey. He did not look like he had a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood anyway. In fact, he did not seem to have any weapons at all.   
“Alright,” the djinn said as he walked out of the shadows, “here I am.”  
Ian ran towards him and grabbed his wrists, one in each hand, “You need to bring me back!” he said with a maniac expression and tears in his eyes. It was definitely not what Mickey was expecting.   
“What?” Mickey asked incredulously, and frankly a little hurt that Ian did not find him in the least threatening.  
“I wanna go back to my fantasy. I can’t take my life anymore.”  
“Don’t you get it, kid? It’s not real. It means nothing.” he replied with a frown, “Besides, it’ll eventually kill you. Or at least, leave you like a vegetable.”  
Ian seemed to ponder on that for a few seconds before he said, “I don’t care. Do it. Give it back to me.”  
The djinn was now outraged, “No. I won’t fucking do that.”  
“Then I’ll tell everyone about you. And I’m guessing you’re not the only one with those powers.” Ian threatened.  
“I’ll kill you.” the monster replied.  
“No, you won’t. You would’ve done that a while ago if you had wanted.” he said defiantly.  
“No one will fucking believe you anyway.” Mickey replied, unamused.  
“Please, just please! You- You don’t understand, ok? My life is miserable. Most of my family doesn’t give a shit about me, and the only person who cares is at college; we don’t even talk anymore. I have no friends, I’ve never been able to establish a remotely healthy relationship and my life dream came crushing down when I got that fucking rejection letter. I’m working at the same place as when I was 15 and my life hasn’t advanced in the least. I’m fucking bipolar, for Christ’s sake. It doesn’t get any worse than this!”  
Ian broke in a silent sob that made him look terribly vulnerable and helpless. He no longer looked like the strong, decided guy he had admired, and somehow it elicited in him deeper feelings towards the ginger. He could not stand the pain in the other boy’s face and did something he would have never picture himself doing –he embraced Ian.   
Ian calmed down after a few minutes, but remained in his arms.   
“Mickey. I’m Mickey.” the brunet whispered in his ear. The younger boy pulled back a little and gave him a tender smile.   
“That’s a dumb name for a whatever-the-hell-you-are.” he replied, but before the djinn had any time to protest, he kissed him passionately. Mickey broke the kiss only after a few minutes, and said to Ian’s ear, “Let’s run away. Start over.”  
The ginger stared at him, “But we don’t even know each other.” he replied a little hesitantly.  
“We’ll have time for that.” Mickey said, and a smile began to grow on Ian’s face.   
“Ok,” he said planting a kiss on his lips, “ok.”

 

 


End file.
